After the Readathon
So I got very little reading done.
Yes, I am calling the readathon a bit earlier than expected because I cannot seem to focus these days. I’ve gotten up and away from my book to rearrange my kitchen more times than I can count. I’ve brainstormed what my apartment will look like in the future, the essays I am angling to write soon, and ruminated on my futile pursuit of a laundry card so I can wash my clothes. Sometimes, I got two pages in and stopped to stare at the ceiling, all sorts of unrelated thoughts clumping in my mind. I’ll have to try again.
Christmas without my mother is always hard. We exchanged books every year. Even as my fingers clatter over the keyboards, I cast my gaze to The Book of Disquiet. It was the best book she ever gifted me. Then I sprinkle my sights on the Portuguese addition, culled from UNM’s library. That is next in the 2026 year. So much depends on the books that I have on my list, how they call and beckon and I cannot seem to answer. I brewed more tea than I could count, told myself that this was the cup that I would sit on the sofa with and read. But it never happened. I even registered for driving lessons before I finished a book.
On the plus side, my apartment is unpacked. I still keep the lights on when I sleep, however, and I find myself reaching for the cats. I set up my mother’s photographs on one of my bookshelves. One is a picture of her in a theater, her natural habitat. Her arms are stretched out over the plush red seats, her gaze wise and quiet and a bit whimsical. This is how I will always remember her at Christmastime.
Not all hope was lost. I found myself really enjoying A Christmas Carol. It was poetic and brief, but succulent like chocolate holiday cookies. It was a last-minute addition to my miniscule best books of the year list. From this readathon up through the earlier months of 2025, I wish I had a bit more of a successful reading time, but it is what it is. The writing in that novella was pretty exquisite, something I’m always a sucker for.
Recently, I went “shopping” through Zimmerman Library and found some books that I will be sitting down with tomorrow (a blog will be out about it). Books, despite the flimsy nature of my attention span, will remain an essential part of my life. In my new home, I have set aside a wall for new bookcases to accomodate my substantial library. That’s all there really is to say. I don’t want televisions or gadgets. I only want to read.
